criminality.
@arcjinwoo ; training grounds, late afternoon
nora doesn’t need to spar, generally speaking. defensively, she is more than gifted. its hard to land a blow on a girl who can flicker out of existence like a blown out flame, a girl who can render herself intangible at a moment’s notice. but its not always perfect. there are surprises, there is exhaustion, and every so often she finds herself in over her head. the last time it happened was in the labyrinth, caught off-guard as a mechanised monster of a spider bore down on her, slammed her to the wall with one sweep of rigid steel. she’d come out of that worse for wear, cracked ribs and a blackened jaw, and in the long run she had determined perhaps it was best not to over-rely on her abilities. pride could ruin even the strongest, after all. and really, who better was there to train her than jinwoo himself? she brings it up to him one night, when they are properly drunk, slouched together in the hallway, leaning upon one another, upon the wall, legs outstretched as they sit on the cold tile floor. “i need to fight.” she explains, “better. i need to be better, and faster, and stronger.” she had paused then, before half-humming the daft punk song that sprang to mind immediately. now? now she was regretting it. hair up in a messy ponytail and her clothing stripped to minimal attire, she’s already critically aware of how small she is- frame, stature, muscle mass. jinwoo has the advantage in every sense, even when he is pointedly holding back, as he does now, and she finds it impossibly frustrating. for the hundredth time, she dodges a punch not with the movement of her head but with the disappearance of her body, flickering back into place and corporeality a second later. “okay, sorry, time out.” she complains, bends in half to catch her breath, hands grasping just above her knees. “its just an instinct, i can’t help it. i see your stupid little bitch hand racing at me and i poof.” she groans as she rights herself once more, pushes wispy strands of escaped hair back out of her eyes. “somehow that’s the hardest part - not just blinking out when you come at me. i’ve never been good on self control.” her smile lilts rueful, wry over reddened lips.
